La légende de la Sorcière de Gassin

Gassin... The village of Witches... Do you know where this name comes from? We offer you a version of the legend…

At the sources of the legend of the witch of Gassin

We have to go back a long way in time... to the Middle Ages perhaps... perhaps during the winter of 1348 to discover the origins of the legend of the witch of Gassin.

The Black Death has been spreading in Europe for several months. Already strongly present in Asia, the disease was brought back by Genoese merchants and affected all of Europe, the Middle East and North Africa.

From the port of Marseille, the plague spread throughout the countryside of Provence. No village is spared. The Maures forest, although difficult to penetrate, does not protect the territory: the plague has arrived on the Gassin peninsula.

To save their lives, the Gassinois resolve to abandon the rocky peak where they had settled two centuries earlier. They resettle in the old farms of the plain which they had abandoned to escape the raids, in small sheepfolds or in small shelters in the neighboring hills.

Every evening, a feeling of sadness overcomes the villagers as they cast a nostalgic glance at their homes which disappear into the darkness of the deep nights of this harsh winter. They think of everything they had to leave behind in their home; they tremble at the idea of looters who take advantage of the disorder to steal property and terrorize people. But the cold that grips them forces them to take refuge inside.

In the Vignus sheepfold, Adhémar took refuge with his two sisters, Diane and Hélione, his brother Christol, and his parents. That evening, the young boy heard a noise in the night. He fears that a wolf is approaching and, despite the fear, he gets out of bed, careful not to wake anyone in the room, neither his family nor the sheep who have been sheltered for the night . Despite his precautions, he wakes Hélione. The young girl follows him and asks him in a low voice where he is going; despite his protests, she decides to accompany him. Adhémar caresses the herd dog to calm it down; the beast glances at its sheep and rests its head on its legs.

In the hearth where the fire is burning, Adhémar grabs a flaming branch and, with unsteady steps, walks towards the door, followed by his sister.

Both are then sucked outside.

There is nothing outside but freezing air and darkness. No wolf, no monster. Hélione makes fun of her brother and his imagination. They decide to walk around the house before going back to bed.

After passing the corner, they stop, stunned. Hélione lets out a cry of surprise: up there, the village seems alive with supernatural life. Through the windows, they see the fire in the fireplaces. The houses seem to be overflowing with light and warmth. Adhémar thinks he hears the distant fires crackling and Hélione thinks he feels their heat. The young girl pulls her brother by the sleeve. She shows him a sort of ball of fire which moves towards the still inanimate houses, which gradually come to life... They look at each other and wonder in silence: have they really seen this silhouette of an old lady, they who are so far away ?

Alerted by the cry, Honorat and Constance, their parents, joined their children. They remain stunned and can't believe their eyes. Seeing their son with a burning branch, they question him... Of course, it can't be him.

A rumor gradually spreads and, on the hills, the people of Gassin brave the cold to witness the miracle.

The next day, a group of villagers decide to keep watch outside. Wrapped in several layers of clothing, they scan the village as it plunges into night. Time passes and many fall into sleep, fatigue from the difficult work of the day gets the better of their curiosity. Suddenly one of the watchmen whispers to his companions: “Wake up, wake up!” ". A light appeared towards the village watchtower, far to the north. She heads towards a first house, where a gigantic fire quickly appears. Like the day before, the houses light up little by little to the rhythm of the progress of these incandescent embers that an old lady seems to be carrying. Households, alleys, porches: all the places that can be set ablaze burst into flames. Fireplaces, lanterns, candles: anything that can burn lights up. Soon the whole village took on the appearance of a great day of celebration. All that is missing is the music of the troubadours and the cries of joy of the population.

Evening after evening, life resumes in the village, following the wanderings of the old lady. Evening after evening, villagers come closer, held back by the fear of the plague, but determined to discover who keeps their homes alive, but none is bold enough to go further.

Only Hélione and Adhémar decide one evening to unravel the mystery. They chose a day with a full moon and good weather: the stars lit up the sky. They slip out of the sheepfold at nightfall while the whole family is asleep. Through fields of olive trees and then vineyards, they go back towards the village. They slip into the village through one of the secret passages and arrive in the village near the Saracen Gate. They then hide in the doorway of the church. Even though winter is moving away, it's cold. The brother and sister huddle together, both to keep each other warm and to give each other courage.

The wind rushing through the alleys makes it resonate like a mournful song in the deserted fort. The more time passes and the night progresses, the more the children curl up. They now regret having come, they think of the illness, the “great pestilence” as the grown-ups call it and everything they say about its ravages.

It was Hélione who saw the witch first. The house adjoining the Porte des Saracens has just lit up. Through the door, they see the figure advancing down the rue de la Tasco. They are so afraid that they hide even more in the corner of the door. But the apparition pays them no attention. She goes up the street after passing the Guet. Hélione and Adhémar remain with their eyes fixed on the old lady's hands. In their hollow it holds incandescent embers right on the skin.

Adhémar leaves the shelter first to follow the witch. His sister follows him and they progress in silence behind the old lady, hiding her in the corners of the rampart, behind a tree or in the entrance of a house. Here they are back at the Saracens gate. The old lady continues her way through the alleys. While she is at the well, she goes down again towards the house of Rollet, the village troubadour...

Hélione and Adhémar know well the street towards which she is finally heading: it is Androuno, a street so narrow that even their little sister, Diane, cannot pass through it head on. The lady makes a final stop in the large village mill: the whole village is lit up.

The witch heads towards the path of Arlatane, the wood located under the village. Adhémar and Hélione consult: they hesitate to follow her towards the forest, where they will no longer have the light of the night. And then they heard that the Arlatan Forest is magical and that you shouldn't go there. Despite the cold and fatigue, their fear of animals and the witch, their curiosity wins and they set off in pursuit of the old lady. Until now she seemed to be sliding on the old cobblestones; They now feel like she's flying over the little dirt road.

Still lighting herself from the embers, the witch goes deeper into the woods and takes the Sources path. The two children are almost running now so as not to lose sight of her. The path goes deeper into the forest before finally emerging into the large clearing. They only stop a few meters from the source of the Arlatan where the witch stopped. They crouch behind a grove of heather to observe the witch, who slowly crouches down. She doesn't move for a moment; it seems to them that she is speaking softly, as if she is reciting something, but they cannot understand a single word. After a few moments of silence, she plunges her hands into the source where the embers disappear. Thanks to the light of the moonlight reflecting in the spring, Hélione sees that the old lady's tense face is now completely relaxed, as if having dipped her hands in the spring had brought her great relief.

Adhémar, getting up to better observe the scene, breaks a dead branch. He freezes in fear as the old lady turns towards him. He imagines that she is staring at him and that she is going to petrify him. He has no time to think if, in the night, the old lady can see him.

“Adhemar… Adhemar.” Hélione calls her frozen brother to bring him back to reality.

The old lady fled into the night.

“Come on, she dropped something,” she whispers to him as she approaches the source.

In the darkness, she sees a white square that stands out clearly on the ground, right next to the source. She grabs it while her brother is waiting for her. He tells him that they can return via Chemin de la Chapelle, which is just above the sheepfold, via Chemin du Vallat: this path is open, they will be able to find each other more easily than if they turned around in the forest.

The next day, the two brothers and sisters meet again, away from the family. Hélione takes out of her pocket the object she picked up the day before. They look with fear at this fabric, which is unlike anything they know. The square has extremely fine lace on its edges; it forms mysterious patterns. In strange letters, at the bottom of the handkerchief, they manage to decipher a first name: “Ayssalène”.

Shortly after, the lord of Gassin, Jacques de Castellane, in agreement with the representatives of the village community and the doctor of Grimaud, authorized the return of the villagers to their house. Everyone was able to see that the candles, the fireplaces, the lanterns were as they had left them when they left. No looting had taken place and nothing had changed in the houses.

Some villagers tried to clarify the mystery of the witch, but the time for work in the fields had returned: pruning olive trees, monitoring the rise of wheat, work in the vineyards, orchards or preparing for the rise of the sheep in the mountain pastures... everyone returned to their occupations.

No one was ever aware of the secret of Hélione and Adhémar: that of Ayssalène and the magical source of Arlatan. The two children placed the fabric in a small chest which they hid near the sheepfold where the family kept their sheep before leaving for transhumance.

Since those distant times, witches have fled on their heather brooms. The water from the spring flows peacefully in Arlatan... But on certain winter evenings, when the village is uninhabited, it is said that an astonishing glow sometimes appears, as if all the fireplaces were lit...